


Cashmere

by betterlate



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alice Is A Lucky Kid, David is a great Dad, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Patrick Is A Great Dad, Post Series, original child character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterlate/pseuds/betterlate
Summary: Patrick loves everything about his husband, everything about their daughter, everything about their life … almost.
Relationships: Alexis Rose & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 94
Kudos: 245





	1. Broccoli and Milkshakes

Patrick loved everything about his husband, everything about their daughter, everything about their life … almost.

There were times, just brief ones and only every rare once in a while, that he wished just a little bit that David and Alice weren’t so much alike. Being the steady hand could be its own sort of burden, and during those fleeting moments, when both of them were hand-wringing and catastrophizing, escalating as they locked in to their own feedback loop of anxiety, Patrick felt that burden like a stone around his neck. So it was a good thing he loved them so damn much.

* * *

When Alice was five, she announced that she was going to go and live with Aunt Alexis in New York. This she informed them with a feisty stamp of her tiny Gucci-clad foot. She then turned on her heel, a fan of dark hair punctuating her retreat up to her room. Moments later, a slammed door made Patrick wince.

“Well, that’s it, then; we’ve failed at being parents,” was David’s assessment.

Patrick might have laughed it off, assuming he was joking … but he knew him too well. Rejection in any form, even a pint-sized baby-faced one, was a trigger.

“It was only a matter of time, of course, I just thought we might be able to keep at it at least until she was fourteen, when most kids realize they hate their parents. This is early even on my timeline. What are we even going to do, Patrick?”

“David, stop. She’s acting out because we made her eat her vegetables; this is not a catastrophe.” Patrick sat across from his husband, their knees touching, and placed both hands on David’s shoulders. His fidgeting thus inhibited, David finally drew his attention to Patrick’s face.

“How can you say that? She wants to live with _Alexis_. In _New York_. I didn’t spend the majority of my twenties bailing my sister out of international hostage situations only to have her _steal my child_ right out from under my nose!”

Patrick took a deep breath through his nose, biting down on the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “David, listen to yourself,” he said. “You’re putting a lot of emotional energy into a little kid’s tantrum.”

“Alice does not have _tantrums_ ,” David said, spitting the word as if it tasted bad. “That makes her sound like a common kindergartner.”

This time Patrick did laugh, squeezing his husband’s shoulders comfortingly. “I’m sorry, you’re right. So are you going to help her pack, then?”

David’s eyes snapped back to his husband’s face. “ _What_?”

“Are you going to help her pack, or should I? I figured she’ll probably need help putting outfits together, and God knows neither one of you trusts my fashion choices. I suppose you should just get her started with winter things and she can send for her summer ones when the weather turns.”

“Patrick.”

“Should I call Alexis and tell her when to expect her?”

“Patrick, stop!”

“What, David? I’m just trying to make it easier for us to transfer custody of our child.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know you don’t.”

“This is not fair, you being all - ” David’s hands waved helplessly as he searched for the correct word.

Patrick was happy to supply it. “Reasonable?”

“Excuse me, I’m not being _un_ reasonable.”

“No, you’re being adorable,” Patrick said, leaning in to plant a firm kiss on David’s mouth. “But you’re also turning this into something it’s not. I _promise_ , David, that it’s not. Now, you sit here and try to relax. I’m going to go up and kick off negotiations with the little dictator. See if I can somehow persuade her to change her mind and give us another chance to make her every waking moment perfect. I mean, that’s our job, right?”

“Now you’re just being rude.”

“Yes,” Patrick agreed easily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, now make sure you tell her the vegetable thing was your stipulation, not mine.”

“All right, David.”

* * *

Alice was, in fact, attempting to pack. She was standing on top of the little black gloss nightstand she had dragged over from her bedside and using all of her strength to extract the hanging garments her seeking fingers could reach. As Patrick watched, the stand rocked slightly, and he was across the room in a flash, catching his daughter around the waist and gently swinging her onto her bed.

“Daddy,” she protested, little rosebud mouth curving into a disapproving frown.

“We don’t climb on furniture, Alice, it’s not safe,” Patrick said.

“I can’t reach,” she said. “I need my cashmere.”

“Of course,” Patrick said, nodding seriously. “You can’t move to New York without your cashmere.”

Alice studied him carefully, seeming to size him up to see if he were teasing her. It was hard to tell with her daddy sometimes; he could laugh with just his eyes and it confused her. But he seemed serious enough now, as he took hold of her little hand and enveloped in his large one.

“Why do you want to go live with Aunt Alexis?” he asked now, and his eyes were warm and inquisitive.

“Because,” she said, shrugging morosely. “She’s nice to me.”

“She is,” Patrick said agreeably. “Aunt Alexis is very nice to you. She loves you very much. But I have a question for you: Are Daddy and I nice to you?”

“Mostly,” Alice conceded after a few moments. Then she looked up at him, eyes dark and solemn through her long lashes. “But I don’t like broccoli.”

“I know you don’t, Al. I know. But sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Like take two bites of broccoli because it’s good for you and your daddy let you have a milkshake and cookies for lunch.”

“It was a chocolate milkshake.” She was playing with his hand now, tracing a pattern lazily into his palm. “Twy makes ‘em really good.”

“I know.” Patrick tapped her on the back of the hand and waited for the girl to look up at him again. “Daddy and I just want you to grow up big and strong and healthy,” he said when she finally did.

“With broccoli?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes with things like reminding you to brush your teeth or making you go to bed before you think you need to. It’s our job. It’s how we take care of you.”

“Milkshakes and broccoli,” Alice said thoughtfully.

“And other things,” Patrick said. When Alice glanced at him, she saw the laughter in his eyes. “There’s also the tickle monster.”

She squealed as he poked her in the belly, and suddenly she launched herself fully into his arms. He folded her up and pressed a kiss into her silky baby hair. The sound of laughter drew David to the door, and he stood there watching the two loves of his life in a moment of easy affection, and his heart swelled in his chest. Patrick caught his eyes over their little girl’s head, and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. She slid down off Patrick’s lap and ran to David, who scooped her up and held her close. “I’m not moving to New York, Daddy,” she said.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that, Button.”

“Yeah, I can’t reach my cashmere.”

David nodded, fully understanding how that could be a game changer.

“She can’t reach her cashmere, David,” Patrick added, amused, as he wrapped his arms around his husband and daughter. “We need to do something about that.”

David nodded harder, relief and love and awe over their blissful little life rushing through him as it did sometimes, out of the blue and with the power to take his breath away. He blinked the sheen of tears away and cleared his throat so he could respond with all seriousness, “We’ll plot a new wardrobe layout tomorrow.”


	2. Safety Net

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David Rose is not just a back-up.

Patrick wanted nothing so much as he wanted his two most important people to be happy to the core. He did everything he could to ensure this. He wasn’t perfect at it, of course. He could be short-sighted and he could be overly cautious on their behalf and he could let his expectations get the better of him because he knew - he _knew_ \- that David and Alice were both cut from the same cloth. This left them vulnerable, and he believed in his very bones that they needed him to be the person standing between them and the speeding train. Every time. He was the protector, and he wore the badge proudly, steadfastly. 

So when it happened that he was being deliberately cut out of an important occurrence in one of their lives, he didn’t react his best. 

* * *

When Alice was twelve, she went to a slumber party at a friend’s house. She didn’t make friends easily, not being blessed with the effortless likability of her Aunt Alexis or even the blind confidence of her Gigi Moira, which could allow one to float through social situations inside a blissful bubble of presumption that every smile and gesture was genuine and pointed right at you. 

No, Alice often came across as somewhat self-involved, kind of a princess, a bit of a diva. Even amongst these kids she had known for her entire life, she had always felt like something of an outcast. 

She hid that insecurity pretty well from her fathers, knowing that David would over-identify and fret and that Patrick would pep-talk her right over the edge. So the party was something she dropped dismissively into casual conversation, even though a well-camouflaged part of her, deep inside, was tinged with hope. 

* * *

David got the text at ten p.m., about a quarter of the way into movie night with Patrick. The buzzing of his phone was a welcome distraction, because the movie was something loud and action-driven, with drug lords who were setting up to bore David to tears until their inevitable bloody end. It wasn’t Notting Hill, and it sure as hell wasn’t a Sandra Bullock vehicle, so when David extracted himself from under the blanket they were sharing and pressed a kiss to his husband’s temple, Patrick understandably assumed that David was just being a bad sport. 

“I thought you were getting into this,” he protested as David fumbled for his slippers. “You can’t bail every time it’s my turn to pick, David.”

“No, it’s not the movie. Well, it’s not _just_ the movie. That was Alice; she wants me to come pick her up.” 

The movie instantly forgotten at the mention of their daughter, Patrick sat up straight on the couch, reaching over to set his wineglass on the coffee table. “Pick her up, why? It’s a sleepover. Isn’t the point of a sleepover to, like, sleep over?” 

David grimaced. “Yeah, um. Plans changed. She wants to come home.” 

“Is she okay?” Patrick pressed. “What did her text say?” 

“All right, Papa Bear. Calm down.” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, David. What’s going on?” 

David took a deep, centering breath, then sat back down on the edge of the couch, reaching for his husband’s hands. “Okay, listen. She doesn’t want me to tell you the details, but I am at liberty to assure you that she will be fine.” 

“ _Will be_? David, what the hell?” 

“Oh my God, Patrick, can you just trust me?”

“You’re being incredibly shady right now, and this is about my daughter, so no. I’m going to need more information than ‘she will be fine.’” 

“ _Your_ daughter. Wow.” 

“David.” 

“Yeah, no. I mean, she comes to you like, ninety-seven percent of the time. I get fashion crises and makeup tutorials and the occasional bit of juicy middle school gossip. Are you really going to begrudge me the experience of being a viable, go-to parent for just a minute?” 

That took Patrick off guard. He felt a stab of guilt, then a wave of irritation that flooded it out. “David, this isn’t a contest,” he snapped. “I am not upset that she texted you instead of me. I am upset that you’re hiding something from me that I have a right to know.” 

“She doesn’t want you to.” 

“She’s _twelve_!” 

“Fine! She’s just a little tipsy and she’s feeling sick and she needs a ride home, okay?” 

The words hit the air and Patrick seemed to take a few moments to let them roll around in his brain before responding. “All right,” he said. “You better go.” 

* * *

Alice was a mess when she climbed into David’s car, her dark hair tousled and the eye makeup she had expertly applied with a little assistance from him smudged and racoonish. He studied her, watching as she fumbled with the seatbelt, pulling it across her body and repeatedly missing the latch as she tried to click it into place. Over it, he reached out and did it for her. She didn’t look at him. 

“You okay?” he asked softly. 

She shook her head. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asked. 

“I just want to go home, Dad,” she said. “I don’t feel good.” 

“You don’t feel _well_ ,” David corrected half-heartedly, then glanced around the cabin for a plastic bag or something he could put in her lap in case of emergency. He found nothing. “Okay, honey, crack the window. Fresh air will do you good.” 

She did as instructed as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “You’re not mad at me?” she asked, and her uncertainty broke his heart a little bit. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he said gently. “I mean, is drinking at your age a great idea? Definitely not, and I hope your hangover tomorrow will remind you of that for a long time. But knowing your limits, knowing when you need an out, knowing where to turn for that … those are all things you did right tonight.” 

She sniffled messily and David wished he had tissues because she was now using her sleeve and he didn’t think she needed to be scolded about hygiene and crimes against delicate-care textiles at the present moment. 

“Are you gonna tell Daddy?” she asked, her voice sounding small and so, so young. 

David frowned. “We’ll talk to him together, okay?” 

“Oh my God, Dad, no. He won’t get it. He still thinks I'm eight years old. Why can’t this just be between us?” 

David took too long to answer and he could feel his daughter sizing him up. Surprisingly, she had the cognitive capacity in her current state to see through his poker face - that, or his poker face was just that bad.

“You already told him, didn’t you? Ugh, I asked you not to!” 

“Honey, he was going to find out anyway; he was right there when you texted me and I’m not going to lie to his face. He loves you and he was worried.” 

“God, I should’ve just stayed at the fucking party!” 

“Hey, language!” 

“So now I’m going to have him on my case all the time, in my business.” 

David rolled his eyes, annoyance taking over. “Maybe we _both_ need to be in your business a little more if you’re going to sneak around and get drunk at seventh grade sleepovers.” 

“You said you weren’t mad!” Alice accused. 

“Yes, and you seem to be actively trying to change my mind. Guess what, it’s working.” 

Alice folded her arms around her middle and fell silent for a few moments. Then she mumbled, “Aunt Alexis said you were always cool when she needed you to help her out.” 

David had to grip the steering wheel tighter to avoid the temptation to turn bodily toward the preteen in utter indignation. “Alexis said _what_? What has she been telling you? Why is she telling you these things?”

“Oh come on, Dad, everybody knows about all of her overseas adventures when you were younger. She told me that she could call you any time of the day or night from anywhere in the world, and even when she was being held hostage by rich sleazy creeps she didn’t worry because she knew you would come to her rescue. You always took care of her. But when I need help, you can’t even keep my secret from _Daddy_.”

David let out a frustrated growl. “Okay, you want to know what’s different about this, Alice? You are _not_ my flighty little sister; you are my _daughter_. It was hard enough when it was her I had to worry about every waking moment of my life, but you? I won’t do that, not by myself, not again, not ever. And your dad, he’s just better at this stuff than I am. He needs to know what’s going on so that when I screw it up he can fix it. He’s the safety net, mine and yours - and we’re both damn lucky to have him.” 

* * *

When they arrived home, Patrick was sitting at the butcher block counter in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. David didn’t know what he was expecting, but the pleasant, everything’s-fine look on his face was unexpected, and a little unnerving. Alice must have thought so too, as she kept glancing back and forth between her dads as if someone were about to pull the rug out from under her. 

“Did you have fun, kiddo?” Patrick directed toward her, standing up to kiss a rather skeptical looking David. 

“Um. Yes?” was Alice’s perplexed response. She made eye contact with David over Patrick’s shoulder as the two embraced, and David tried to convey “I have no fucking idea” with his eyebrows alone, because this wasn’t the Patrick he had left fuming half an hour ago. 

“It’s late,” Patrick offered. “Why don’t you go on up to bed?” 

“Okay,” Alice said, her brow still furrowed in confusion. Had her dad just been messing with her when he’d told her that her daddy knew? She had fully expected to be grounded the second she walked through the door. At any rate, she wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth; her stomach was roiling and she really did need to get up to the safety of her own bathroom before she expelled the remnants of Jello shots and pizza on her dad’s prized Romanian kitchen tile. 

But first. 

Alice suddenly felt a warm rush of affection for both of her parents, even though Daddy was being super weird and Dad was not on board with bribing international underground groups with bars of gold and bottles of body milk on her command. But just maybe she didn’t want to follow in her amazing aunt’s footsteps anyway … not in that way, at least. She hugged them both, David extra tight because she had a feeling she had hurt him in some fleeting but complicated way, and then she retreated to the safety of her room. 

David eyed Patrick when she was gone, his gaze wary and half-amused. “Well, that was unexpected,” he said. 

Patrick didn’t return the amusement, but his eyes were filled with warmth and sincerity - not a trace of the irritation from earlier. “I'm sorry, David. I knew you had this,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I never meant to make you feel like I thought you didn’t.”

David caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “Do I, though? I don’t feel qualified.” 

“To shape another human being? Who is? But if anyone could be, David Rose, it would be you. Just look at your sister.” 

“Yeah, I’m not doing _that_ again.” 

“I know, and you won’t have to. I’m here. Not because I don’t think you can do it alone, but because we’re a team.” 

David folded his arms around his husband and rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder. “Thank you. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go give _Aunt Alexis_ a call. I think she has some damage control to do with her niece.” 

“Good idea.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted, these won't be in any particular chronological order. I felt the pre-teen thing today, so here's what came of that.


	3. Block Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best kind of love is terrifying.

David Rose didn’t like children. 

Everyone who knew him even a little bit knew this about him. It was as much a part of his persona as his tendency toward melodrama, inherited honestly by way of his mother, or his bold and often confusing fashion preferences. 

Children were loud and unreasonable. They were prone to having sticky hands and sloppy mouths, and their sense of social norms was completely left of center. They were honest to a horrifying degree, likely to point out the most devastating physical flaws as if they were commenting on nothing more consequential than the weather and then going about their business as if they had not just laid you flat with an act of incidental verbal brutality. 

Frankly, they scared him a little bit. 

And then he met one who scared him quite a bit more than that. 

* * *

Alice came to them at the age of not-yet-two, a terrifyingly fragile little thing with pudgy cheeks and an innate clumsiness that made David suggest to Patrick in all seriousness that they look into padding every household corner and surface with rubber foam. For his part, Patrick did not dismiss this suggestion with much, if any, conviction. He even made a mental note to call Ronnie and check her rates for full-home childproofing. 

They had met Alice a few times before she became theirs, the first one at the home of her foster parents - nice people who seemed to care a lot for their charges. David and Patrick sat side by side on the well-loved couch in the living room as tiny Alice played with oversized foam blocks on the floor in the center of the room. Patrick chatted with the couple, managing somehow to maintain passable small talk while his gaze kept being pulled magnetically back to the little girl. 

David, though. 

David didn’t even attempt to engage the kind man and woman in conversation. He never looked away from Alice, her every move fascinating him in ways he could never have expected or put into words. She was trying desperately to place a red block on top of the yellow, green, and blue ones she had already managed to stack, but every time she got close her wrist would bump the middle blocks and shift the sad little tower off kilter. After the fourth or fifth failed attempt, David was sure she would get frustrated and either give up or start fussing - isn’t that how these small creatures voice displeasure? - but she didn’t. Instead, she stood up, red block in hand, little pink tongue sticking out between her lips in an insanely cute display of pure determination, and even as her chubby legs swayed, balance clearly not a gift she had been showered with in abundance, she plunked the red block on top of the others. It wasn't pretty, and it nearly toppled the whole structure, but then - success! 

David didn’t realize he had cheered out loud until he felt Patrick’s warm hand on his knee. He looked at his husband, a goofy grin plastered to his face, and saw a telltale sheen in Patrick’s eyes. “She got the red block on top,” David explained with a ridiculous sense of pride.

A voice at the back of his mind reminded him to proceed with caution. She wasn’t theirs; nothing about this was even nearly official and he would not … _could_ not … fall in love with her until he was absolutely sure that it was safe. 

But then he looked back at the baby. He squeezed Patrick’s hand and leaned into his shoulder so they could admire her together, and she was looking back at them. Her huge, soulful dark eyes studied him, and there was - could it be? - a small smile working at the corners of her mouth. A dimple played adorably in her right cheek. 

Then she did the thing that cemented David and Patrick’s fate. She took that block, the red one, the one she’d worked so hard to stack on her tower, and pulled it right off, hugging it into her chest and wrapping both arms tightly around it. She turned slowly, wobbling like a tiny drunk, and made her slow and deliberate way over to the couch. And with a fanfare of fumbling, she handed that block to David. He accepted it like it was the Hope Diamond, sure that his heart was literally going to burst at any moment, and make a huge mess all over these people’s Pottery Barn couch, and they would kick him out and he would never see this amazing person again in his life. He forced himself to breathe, forced his heart to resume normal functioning, and blinked back the sudden moisture in his eyes. 

And David was suddenly more afraid than he had ever been in his entire life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for Alice's origins. I complied. :)


	4. Black Cast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David wishes he could keep Alice in a bubble. He can't.

Patrick’s upbringing and David’s couldn’t have been any further apart had they been raised on different planets. Patrick had cousins and birthday parties, Little League games, summer trips to the beach, extended family Christmases at Grammy and Grandpa’s. He had broken his arm falling out of a tree when he was seven and had been chauffeured home balanced on the front bars of his best friend Jason’s bike. His mom made the best meatloaf and his dad helped him with his homework. It was a simple childhood, solid and nostalgic and pure. 

David was rather baffled by the whole thing.

His own early years had seen him decked out in designer duds by beloved Adelina to be paraded about at his parents’ frequent cocktail parties, he and Alexis playing their roles to perfection - beautiful showpieces to be marveled over by people they didn’t know. 

Their teenage years were fraught, Alexis finding her footing amongst a group of friends for whom David made no secret of his distaste and mistrust and Alexis, textbook little sister to the core, not giving half a damn. 

When she was sixteen she almost died in his arms, the result of some ill-mixed combination of alcohol and upper that she’d blindly ingested at a party thrown by one of those imbeciles she hung around with. He’d dumped water on her face, slapped her, shaken her, screamed her name repeatedly as her eyes rolled back in her head and she remained unresponsive. He slipped and slid on the wet tiles of the bathroom as he scrambled for the phone in the other room. Before he could get there she gasped and he backtracked, hitting his knees at her side, cradling her head in his lap as his tears dripped onto her face and mixed with the moisture there, the sweat and the water, and she had not died even though he definitely wanted to kill her once he knew she was going to be okay.

He never forgot, but he never allowed himself to think about it again.

Things like this informed David’s parenting, and events in Patrick's life informed his. David wanted to put Alice in a bubble, to keep her preserved and perfect and unharmed forever, while Patrick saw this as a misguided attempt to prevent the inevitable. Children fell, he argued. Skinned knees happened, and they weren’t the end of the world. Hurt feelings taught valuable lessons, and not every broken heart was unmendable. 

Thus they often found themselves at an impasse where Alice was concerned. 

* * *

When Alice was nine, she broke her arm falling out of a tree - just like her daddy. Patrick wasn’t surprised when David didn’t receive the news with anything less than hysteria, especially when he told him the pediatrician wanted her to stay overnight at the children’s hospital in Elmdale for observation for a possible concussion. 

When David arrived, mere minutes after the phone call, which meant he had sped all the way there from the store, Patrick felt it necessary to intervene. Assuring Alice he would be right back, Patrick met David halfway down the hall and caught his husband by the arm, his hand gripping David’s bicep in an iron vise and steering him back the way he had come. Protesting but unable to break away from Patrick’s forceful grasp, David found himself being pushed gently but firmly down on a chair in an empty waiting room off the main hall. 

“What the fuck, Patrick, I want to see her!” 

“I know, David. I know. And you will. But you need to get a hold of yourself first. Do you want to scare her?” 

“Patrick, let me go,” David demanded, struggling against his husband. 

“ _David Rose,_ listen to me. Alice is fine. Her arm is hurting her a bit but they gave her some pain meds and she’s calm now. The bump on her head is already starting to go down; the observation is just a precaution. I get that you’re worried, honey, but if you go busting up in her room like this, you’re going to stress her out. You know she feeds off your anxiety.” 

David knew he was right. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to take a deep breath. Patrick released his grip on his arm and pulled him in for a hug. David released the breath in a sob, and Patrick shushed him gently, lifting a hand to press it against the back of David’s head and murmuring soft words of comfort. It took less than five minutes before David had his emotions in check again, and Patrick pulled back, commanding eye contact so he could see for himself if his husband was really ready, or was just putting on a show of it. 

Of course David could and would do anything for their daughter, and when he nodded, Patrick knew it would be okay. He stood and held his hand out to David, who took it and allowed himself to be guided back down the hallway to Alice’s room. 

“Daddy!” the little girl said, opening her eyes and reaching out her good hand toward him. 

He took it, kissed it repeatedly, and then went to work smoothing her long dark locks down and away from her face. “Hi, little button,” he cooed. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I fell out of a tree,” she replied, and both of her dads laughed a little too loudly, relief palpable in the air. “But the doctor says I get to pick out a color for my cast.” 

David smiled indulgently. “Ahh, and what are we thinking? A nice seasonal lavender, a versatile blue, or would you prefer something bold and daring?” 

Alice grinned. “Black!" she said decisively. “A black cast that everyone can sign with a white paint pen. Doesn’t that sound cool?” 

David bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “That sounds perfect,” he said, and he meant it. Behind him, he could almost feel the weight of Patrick’s adoring look. He reached a hand back and felt his husband’s slip into it, squeezing hard to show his love, his approval, his pride at David’s bravery, at this small step toward healing past hurts. 


	5. Bad Cops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is tired of being the bad cop.

Patrick woke up to shouting. He groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over the top of his head in an attempt to block out the sound. It didn’t work. The voices of his beloved husband and darling daughter, they carried. And then they got louder, because one of these ridiculous human beings had flung open his bedroom door. 

“Patrick!” 

“Dad!” 

“Tell your daughter that she’s being a brat.” 

“Tell your husband that he’s being a _jerk_.” 

“Hey! You can’t say that to me.” 

“Well? If the Ferragamo fits…!” 

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut underneath his pillow fortress and held his breath and waited for them to go away. He knew they wouldn’t. 

“Patrick!” 

“Dad _dy_!” 

Patrick’s head hurt and he was still so tired after a long night at the store. And this was the very last thing he wanted to deal with first thing on his day off. Maybe if he lay … very … still … 

“Patrick, I could use your help here.” 

“He’s being completely unreasonable, Dad, tell him!” 

Patrick sat up abruptly, surprising both David and Alice into twin versions of a brief, open-mouthed silence when he threw the covers off and let the pillows litter the floor. 

“Oh my God, _how_ have you two already found something to fight about?!” he demanded angrily. “It is - ” he squinted over at the clock on his night stand. “ _Eight twenty-three_ in the morning. It is _entirely_ too early for just about any kind of conversation, much less this” - he waved his arms expressively in their direction - “insanity! Now, whatever this is about, I want no part of it. David, you are the parent. Alice, you are sixteen years old. Act your respective ages and stop fighting like little kids or I swear to God I will lock you both in a room together until you _work. It. Out._ ” 

To their credit, they had the decency to look slightly abashed. After all, Patrick was by nature the most even-keeled of the family and when he lost his temper it was always somewhat of an attention getter. Their contrition lasted all of five seconds, though, before their eyes met again and the effects of the tongue lashing dropped away in favor of more sniping. 

“I _told_ you not to wake him up,” David muttered under his breath.

“I’m not the one who started this!” Alice muttered back. 

“OUT!” Patrick barked, pointing furiously at the door. 

He heard them bickering their way down the hall. 

* * *

David was a good dad, a _fantastic_ dad. The problem was, as their daughter got older, David was struggling more and more. Patrick suspected that part of the problem was that Alice reminded him a good deal of Alexis. This led to arguments that, in Patrick’s estimation, were quite a bit more like sibling altercations than father-daughter ones. The balance of power was completely out of whack, and it drove Patrick crazy. It left him, at times, with the uncomfortable feeling that he was parenting both of them. 

Things had begun to shift when Alice became a teenager and started testing her boundaries a bit more. Patrick knew this was a natural thing, that she had to make a few mistakes in her quest to find her place in a new phase of life. He didn’t necessarily like it, what parent did? Letting go was not easy and it was not for the faint of heart. But as she earned trust, Patrick gave her gradually more leeway, building what he hoped was a safe space for honesty and accountability that would serve all of them well for the duration of her teenage years. 

But David just couldn’t.

Bearing the scars of his sister’s troubled youth and his part in saving her from it, David equated freedom with danger, permissiveness with catastrophe. He railed against the loosened rules and regulations that Patrick began to employ as Alice got older and her social life more active and, in David’s mind at least, risky - and the two of them had many a discussion about this in a vain attempt to find some common ground. 

Eventually David seemed to back off some, if for no other reason than he didn’t see that he had much choice in the matter. Stevie and Alexis both echoed, in strikingly similar terms, what Patrick had been trying to tell him about the need for a girl Alice’s age to, like, _breathe_ , or whatever. So he attempted to stifle his concerns and bite his tongue when Patrick added an hour to curfew or okayed a party that David labeled as sketchy. 

The unintended result was that David and Alice’s interactions began to look like what Patrick had been greeted with that morning - childish and antagonistic pecking and poking. 

“I hate being bad cop all the time,” David complained one day after he’d actually won a round for a change, which resulted in a compromise that would have Alice home two hours earlier than she felt was fair. 

“I don’t really think there is a good cop in this scenario, babe,” Patrick said, stepping behind David to rub the tension out of his shoulders. 

“You would’ve given her midnight. I don’t like midnight. Nothing good happens after ten p.m.” 

“I would not have given her midnight. Eleven, maybe. And only because the party is at Kirsten’s house and we know her parents.” 

“She _says_ the party is at Kirsten’s house. Do we really know that for sure? One of these days, Patrick, we’re going to get a phone call. And you’re in for a rude awakening when you find out that not only is our precious little girl NOT at Kirsten’s house but that she is being held for ransom by international art thieves and we have to sell our business to get her home. Just wait.” 

Patrick bit back a smile because he knew that despite David’s tone, this was serious territory they had ventured into. There were roots and scars and exposed nerves. “Honey. Do you remember when Alice was twelve, and she got drunk at that sleepover? And she called you to come and pick her up? She did that because she trusts you to take care of her and love her even when she screws up. I just don’t want you guys to lose that.” 

David scoffed. “I think it’s a bit late for that.” 

“Nope, she’s sixteen. If she’s not pissed off at us a good percentage of the time, we’re not doing our jobs. Doesn’t mean she’s not still your Little Button.” 

David sighed and leaned into Patrick’s shoulder massage. 

“I once told you that you have to learn to trust people,” Patrick said, working his fingers into the knots of his husband’s muscles. “That includes our daughter.” 

David bristled and pulled away. “May I remind you that when you said that to me, you were hiding a big fucking secret? This may not be your best argument for me being more reasonable.” 

Patrick nodded. “Fair point,” he admitted. 

“Look, I spent a good portion of my late teens and early twenties chasing after my madcap baby sister to make sure she stayed in one piece,” David said. “Our parents never got a single one of those calls, you know. They had no idea what she was doing at any point in time, and they didn’t give a damn as long as she showed up at Mom’s premiere parties and their annual anniversary gala. They lived in a fantasy world in which they had somehow produced two fully functioning, capable adult humans, and until fairly recently they were able to cling to that delusion. But the truth is, they checked out of our lives early on and left us to sink or swim. And let me tell you, Patrick, that Alexis? Would have sunk. Do you know what kept that from happening? Me. Just me; isn't that a bone-chilling thought? Now, when it comes to raising kids, I may not know what works - I’m the first to admit that. But I sure as hell know what doesn’t.” 

* * *

It was after midnight - twelve seventeen, to be precise - and Alice Rose wasn’t home. David was pacing from room to room, phone pressed into his hand, his breathing ragged and his eyes practically bugging out of his head. Patrick was fuming. They had called her and texted her multiple times, had recruited both Stevie and Alexis to do the same, and she was responding to none of it - this was deliberate and an act of rebellion that crossed the line. 

David’s anxiety level was approaching the red zone and Patrick had just decided “fuck it” and was pulling his shoes on in preparation to drive over to Kirsten’s house when the front door opened and their wayward daughter slipped through it. 

Patrick had just a moment to notice his husband sink down onto the couch and put his head in his hands, trying to regain some control over his breathing, before his full attention fell on Alice. 

“Where in the hell have you been?” he demanded, and the harshness of his tone made her cringe. 

“I lost track of time,” she said weakly. 

“That’s what you’re going with?” Patrick said. “That’s the best you can do? Give me your phone. Unlock it.” 

She reached in her pocket to retrieve her phone, typed in her code, and handed it over willingly, watching as he scanned her string of increasingly concerned unanswered texts, saw the log of recent calls that had gone ignored. His jaw clenched. He was really, really pissed. 

“Do you know how worried we’ve been? Do you care?” he asked, pocketing her phone and boring into her with his angry eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you even said earlier that you thought midnight would be okay this time. I just figured -” 

“Don’t you even start with that, young lady, you _know_ we settled on ten o’clock and you intentionally disregarded your curfew. Well I hope you had a good time, because that is the last party you’re going to be going to for a long, long time.” 

Alice sighed. “Ugh, you sound like _him_ ,” she said, shooting a look David’s way, and now Patrick saw red. 

“ _‘He’_ is your _father_ , Alice Rose, and you will show him the respect he deserves, even when you don’t like what he has to say. You think he’s the tough one? Well, just you wait, darling. Now you’ve got two bad cops on your ass. Now go to your room.” 

“Daddy, I -” 

“ _Go!_ ” 

She let out a sound of pure frustration, her eyes filling with tears, and then turned and ran up the stairs. The door slammed a moment later, and Patrick let out a ragged breath. 

“David?” he said, going to kneel next to his husband, who had still not uttered a word or even lifted his head from his hands. “Baby, she’s okay. It’s okay.” 

He was relieved when David looked up, and even more relieved when he said his next words with a slight glint in his dark eyes, although his voice was thick with emotion and it was clear he was still in the death grip of anxiety. “Welcome to Team Bad Cop,” he said.

“Happy to serve with you, partner,” Patrick agreed, his arms wrapping tightly around David. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I hope you're enjoying these little snippets of my vision of post-series life for David and Patrick. One thing (the only thing?) that bothers me a little about AO3 is that you can only give kudos one time. So the only gauge of whether or not people are engaging with a story after the initial crop of kudos on the first chapter is blind hope. If you could leave a comment, that would be super much appreciated, too. I love writing for writing's sake, but it does help to know that someone else is getting some pleasure out of what I'm putting out there. I would rain kudos down like confetti from the sky on most of the SC fics I've read if I could. Just for the record.
> 
> P.S. I know Alice is not the most likable person in her teenage years. Just stick with her. ;)


	6. Auntie Lex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Patrick need a night out. Alexis can handle a toddler for a couple of hours ... right?

“Are you sure you can handle this?” David asked for what had to be the fifth or sixth time since his sister had arrived.

“Oh my _God_ , David! You have no faith in me at all!” 

“Okay, but that doesn’t really answer the question?” 

Alexis stamped her foot and let out a frustrated “Argh!” 

Patrick planted a comforting hand on David’s shoulder. “Honey, I’m sure Alexis can handle a couple hours of babysitting.” Both his confident words and his tone were intentionally infused with much more enthusiasm than he felt. “Um … _right,_ Alexis?” 

“Ugh, _yes,_ guys! I mean, how hard can it be? _You two_ have managed to keep this little dollface alive for over a year, and that’s with _David_ being a primary caregiver! Besides, it’s about time she had some one-on-one time with Auntie Lex. We’ve got _lots_ to talk about, don’t we, dollface?” Alexis smiled over at the three-year-old who was sprawled on the living room rug scribbling busily in a coloring book. 

“Now, see, I’m not sure I like the sound of _that_.” 

“Day _-vid!”_

Patrick decided to intervene before the Rose siblings could wind each other up any more. “Look, David, it’s fine. Alexis is fine, Alice is fine, you and I need a little alone time. Come on, we’ll have dinner, we’ll take a walk, we’ll be back before - ”

“Before she can do any lasting damage?” David supplied, gesturing vaguely toward his sister.

“Oh my GOD!” Another foot stamp from Alexis, who was clearly affronted by their obvious lack of trust in her ability to keep their kid from locking herself in the refrigerator or pole-vaulting over the balcony. “This is _not_ the way you treat someone who is doing you a favor!” 

“She’s right about that, David," Patrick interceded. "Alexis, thank you. We really appreciate this. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call us … well, um, call _me_.” 

David rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying … she’s the purest and most perfect thing in our lives, Alexis. Don’t, like, _teach_ her anything.” 

* * *

Dinner somewhere other than Cafe Tropical was a rare treat, and this being their first toddler-free date in months made it even more special. Patrick had secured reservations at Elm Valley’s upper-mid-range Italian place with the garlic bread David lived for, and their table was set off by itself in a little alcove that afforded a small measure of intimacy. There was even a flickering faux-flame candle in a red glass holder that was the tackiest damn thing David had ever seen but which gave off dancing red light that was somewhat hypnotic - and hypnosis was definitely required in order to help them forget they’d left their precious baby girl in the care of Alexis Rose. 

Patrick waited until David had shoved another chunk of garlic bread into his mouth and then reached for his hands, squeezing both of them in his own. “So,” he said. “This is fun.” 

David chewed, chewed, chewed, his eyes and eyebrows responding well before his mouth was clear enough to do so. “You know she hasn’t been around a child for any significant amount of time since she _was_ one? And even then, she had me there to make sure she didn’t, like, drink her passionfruit-scented shampoo. Did you know she tried to do that once? It was horrific.” 

“David? We agreed. Tonight is about us.” 

“Ugh, honey, I know we did. But I can’t stop thinking about Alexis being the only thing standing between our innocent little baby and a stomach full of passionfruit-scented shampoo. Things go horribly wrong in Alexis’ orbit, it’s just what happens. She has very bad judgment, as a rule.” 

“That’s not who she is anymore,” Patrick said gently. 

David sighed, reluctant to agree with Patrick’s assessment - even if he recognized the truth in it. “Well … she’s still Alexis.” 

“ _Alexis_ is a successful public relations professional in New York City,” Patrick pointed out. “She doesn’t follow shady boyfriends into multinational hostage crises. She doesn’t drink shampoo. She doesn’t let you down, David. Not anymore.” 

There was a long silence during which David shoved another chunk of garlic bread into his mouth to avoid answering. Patrick held his gaze for the full two minutes it took him to chew and swallow. When he was done, all David said was “Fine.” 

For the rest of dinner, they didn’t talk about Alexis at all. 

* * *

When they arrived home, the first thing they noticed was the eerie silence. The second thing they noticed was the mind-boggling mess. 

It was shocking, truly. It looked like a vengeful and laser-focused tornado had struck the exact center of their living room, whirling debris and chaos out in all directions - toys, board books, crayons, random articles of clothing, and, inexplicably, what looked to be the entire contents of a box of uncooked macaroni. 

David and Patrick stood there, momentarily unable to do much more than attempt to process what they were seeing. David broke from his paralysis first. “Where are they?” he asked in a hushed, bewildered tone. “Were they … _taken_?” 

Patrick had the nerve to look amused. “Looks more like they exploded,” he quipped. “Alexis?” he called out, following the trail of pasta up the stairs. David followed, holding on to Patrick’s shoulders from behind, cautious and alarmed. “Alexis, we’re home!” 

“Shhhhhhh!” David hissed directly in his ear, his chin hooked over his husband’s shoulder as he crouched behind him like Patrick was a human shield. 

“Why are we being quiet?” Patrick stage-whispered, hauling David along with him down the hall toward the first closed door on the left - Alice’s room. 

“Because! Because this is weird! I’m telling you, Alexis isn’t here. The only time she’s ever quiet is when she’s sleeping and - _oh_.” 

Patrick had just nudged open the door to reveal a surprising scene: Alexis passed out cold in the glider, Alice sprawled messily across her chest, chubby little legs straddling Alexis’ midsection, sucking contentedly on two of her fingers. Both of them were fast asleep from what could only be the pure exhaustion of having spent the past three hours wreaking havoc over the entire house.

Patrick tiptoed over to the glider, where he ever-so-gently extracted his daughter from her aunt’s arms and lifted her expertly into his own. Meanwhile, David pulled back the covers on Alice’s little bed and plumped her pillow. They both kissed her soft, pudgy little cheeks before Patrick settled her into the bed and David covered her with the blanket. 

David then looked over to his sister, who had stirred and snorted softly in her sleep when Alice’s weight was removed from her chest, but remained completely unconscious. Patrick smiled at him and nodded toward the younger Rose sibling. “This one’s all you,” his expression said as he slipped silently out of the room. 

David stepped over to Alexis. A small, brotherly part of him wanted to do something annoying, like pinch her nose shut or whack her awake with a pillow. Maybe dribble water over the top of her head, slowly and gradually, until she woke up thinking the roof was leaking. But something about her slack-jawed sleep face, her lips parted slightly and her head lolled back against the glider’s headrest, tangled blonde curls obscuring most of her face, hit him right in the chest with an unexpected stab of affection. She was tapped out, and she had cared for his little girl, and their living room was a fucking _disaster zone_ but she had done it. Alexis Rose had single-handedly taken care of another human being. He couldn't help it; he was proud.

He reached for the lusciously soft hand-crocheted afghan hanging over the back of the chair, the one that Patrick’s mother had made as a gift when they brought her new granddaughter home. He shook it out to its full size and gently draped it over his sleeping sister. Then he glanced around to make _absolutely_ sure there were no witnesses before bending over to drop a soft kiss on the top of Alexis’ head. 

He could wait until morning to blast her about the mess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, you guys! I asked for comments and you delivered big. Thank you so much for indulging me. I have a lot of time to write at the moment, as I'm on a vacation I don't particularly want to be on and hiding out from my in-laws a good bit of time. When I'm typing on my laptop, they assume I'm working so they leave me alone. This is a win-win scenario if you're enjoying this story. (And if you are, I'd love to hear about it.) Be well, stay safe, best wishes, warmest regards.


	7. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice didn't actually break in, and she didn't steal anything. But that may not matter in the long run.

Well, this was a whole new kind of low for thirteen-year-old Alice Rose. 

Here she was, sitting on the floor of her fathers' shop next to her two best friends (and more on THAT later, because her current dilemma was causing her to completely reconsider her definition of the word), hoping that the hardwood underneath her would open up and swallow her whole. 

She had about ten minutes left for that to happen, and it wasn't looking good. She based the timeline on the number of minutes that had gone by since their captor had placed the phone call to her dad. She was factoring in two minutes flat for Dad to alert Daddy, four more minutes for him to remove his Saturday night face mask and rummage for something appropriate to wear on a late-night rescue mission, one minute for Dad to grab a baseball cap and step into his running shoes, and nine, tops for them to arrive at the store. 

And who was she kidding? Rescue mission? More like search and destroy. 

She could only stare at their captor's feet, clad in heavy, rugged-looking work boots. As her friends bemoaned their own parents' imminent arrival, one of those boots came up and nudged Alice's knee. Startled, she looked up into Ronnie's stern face. 

"Now, just what were you thinking anyway?" she asked. 

Alice shook her head. "I wasn't ... I didn't mean for this to happen."

Ronnie laughed, a short, humorless bark of a laugh. "Oh, you accidentally brought your little band of shoplifting misfits here to break into your dads' store and rob them blind?" 

"I didn't break in! I had the key and I used the code! I didn't know they were going to take stuff." 

"You also didn't think you'd get caught. And you _also_ \- " she reached down and took Riley's bag from her, shaking it slightly to feel the heft of all the products she'd loaded it up with, "didn't do a bang-up job of keeping your little buddies here from ripping off the place. May not make you a thief yourself, but it's near enough. An accessory, at least." 

Miserably, Alice put her face in her hands. It sounded bad, sure. She could _hear_ how bad it sounded, so bad that she went back to willing the floor to open beneath her, just to be done with it. Before she had to look at them, at their betrayed faces and disapproving eyes. But Ronnie wasn't having it. 

"Your fathers work real hard, you know. This store is their pride and joy. It's gonna tear them up that you did this." 

"Oh my God, Ronnie, I know!" Alice snapped without thinking, removing her hands from her face so she could glare up at the woman who was leaning casually against the cash register counter. She was met with a sharply raised eyebrow that had her instantly cowed. "I mean, yes ma'am," she muttered respectfully. "I know." 

More waiting. Riley and Scarlett were now mumbling back and forth about putting the stuff they had taken back on the shelves before anyone arrived. "If we don't have it on us they can't prove we took anything," Scarlett whispered, eyeing Ronnie, who appeared to be absorbed in playing a game on her phone. 

"Keep that where it is," Ronnie ordered flatly as Scarlett reached over her head with a jar of eye cream and tried to stack it on the table above her. 

"Hey, Allie, any chance your dads'll just it go? I mean, since you let us in here and all. We weren't technically doing anything wrong?" 

Alice shot an annoyed look Scarlett's way. "No. You'll be lucky if they don't press charges." 

"But ... but it's not like _you're_ innocent, here!" Scarlett protested. 

"Oh no, the charges will be against me, too," Alice said with certainty.

Riley chimed in, “No way, Allie, I’ve met your dads and at least the short one is like super cool.” 

Ronnie chuckled to herself, probably about the description of Patrick.

Alice shook her head. “Surprisingly, Ri, he’s a little less cool when people steal from his store.” 

As if on cue, the glass door opened with a little ding of the bell overhead and everyone inside the shop whipped their heads around to stare at the two men who had just come through. 

They did not look happy. 

David was wearing his pajamas, in fact, with rumpled sleep hair - and that in and of itself was enough to set Alice’s heart beating faster. This was going to be ugly. Patrick, for his part, had on his serious face and glanced over to level his daughter with _A Look_ before turning to Ronnie. 

“Thanks for calling us,” he said to her. “You just happened to be walking by?” 

“Yep, and noticed these geniuses moving around inside as subtle as you please. I knew you boys had locked up and gone home early so I thought I should check it out.” She jerked a thumb back over her shoulder at the girls. “You’re gonna want to check their bags before you let them go. Their parents are on the way.” She pushed off from the counter and started for the front doors. “And on that note, I think my work here is done. I’d throw the book at all of them, but that’s just me.” 

“Thanks, Ronnie.” 

David stalked over to tower over Riley and Scarlett and held his hand out expectantly. “Bags, now, give them,” he ordered, and they exchanged a nervous glance before doing as they were told. He opened each bag and peered inside, gasping audibly at the contents. It looked like they had attempted to clean out the organic skincare table and had just started in on scented candles and hair products. David pointed a finger at both of the girls. “Stay,” he said, taking their bags and moving back over to the cash register, where he began to ring the products up. 

“Um, sir? What are you doing?” Scarlett was brave enough to ask. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m ringing up your purchases.” 

Another nervous look passed between the teens. “We, um, don’t have any money.” 

David gave them a look of mock horror. “Well how on _earth_ did you plan to pay for these? There’s at least two hundred dollars’ worth of product here, ladies. I guess your parents will have to foot the bill.” 

Scarlett shot Alice a panicked look. “Allie, my mom will kill me! _Do_ something?” 

Alice sighed. “Dad? Is this really necessary?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Alice,” David shot back faux-breezily. “Was it _really necessary_ for you to bring your little shoplifter friends into our store after hours to take a bunch of stuff that doesn’t belong to them?” 

Patrick fixed Alice with a look that was dark and unreadable. “How about you, Al? Did you take anything yourself?” 

Though she recognized that the events currently unfolding were largely her fault, that accusation truly stung. “Daddy, _no_! Of course not.” 

He gave a curt nod. “Good. Although I’m not sure you’ve earned the moral ground to be offended right now.” 

“Two hundred twenty-seven dollars and thirty-four cents,” David announced. “Will that be cash or charge?” 

“Mr. Rose? We really can’t - "

“Oh, _right_. You have no _money_. Well maybe you should think about that the next time you break into someone’s business in the dead of night and fill your little backpacks with things you have no intention of paying for, mmm?” 

Riley’s mom showed up first followed by both of Scarlett’s parents. They settled up with David, who in fact did make good on the threat to charge them for their girls’ shoplifted items. As they were being ushered out of the store, Scarlett looked back at Alice with fire in her eyes and muttered just loud enough for her to hear, “Thanks for nothing, Allie. My mistake, thinking you could be cool.” 

And there it was. Not only had she disappointed her dads, she had lost any ground she’d gained with two of the most popular girls in the eighth grade. Alice set her teeth and folded her arms across her chest. “Guys, before you start in on me, I’m sorry.” 

“Oh yeah? Which thing are you sorry about, Al?” Patrick challenged, folding his arms right back at her. David, shockingly, had gone to work straightening bottles that had been nudged out of proper alignment. “You sorry about the thing where you were out wandering the streets instead of at a friend’s house where you told us you were going to be? The thing where you used our key and security code to sneak your juvenile delinquent buddies into our store to help themselves? Or, hey, maybe it’s just that you got busted. You know, I think  _ that’s _ what you’re sorry for.” 

“You’re not being fair,” Alice said, tears threatening. “They told me they just wanted to look around. I didn’t know they were going to steal things.” 

“Does that make it marginally better? Maybe. But this is a betrayal of our trust and you’re going to have to work really hard to make that up to us. Now grab your bag and let’s go home. It’s late. David? That can wait till the morning.” 

Something about how David’s eyes hadn’t yet met her own left Alice feeling weird. Uncomfortable. She would rather he yell at her or make some more sarcastic comments. But his chilly demeanor? That worried her. A lot.

When they got home Patrick sent her to her room with the ominous promise that they would be having “a long discussion about this” in the morning. But he also hugged her. It was brief and side-armed and maybe not as warm as it would be otherwise, but it was _something_. When she mumbled a soft, tentative, “good night” in David’s direction, he didn’t even respond. 

She went up to her room wondering how she could have screwed up so badly in one night, to have lost her friends, her fathers’ trust, and maybe even something deeper than that with her dad. 

She needed Aunt Alexis. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...
> 
> Comments are love!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Schitt's Creek fandom. I love the idea of Patrick and David as dads, and I woke up this morning with a clear image of what that looks like. I plan to have several of these little snapshots into their lives, with Alice at different ages. It should be a decent mix of fluff and teenage turmoil, showcasing how amazing these guys are as a couple and as dads with very different parenting styles.


End file.
